The Tube
by Chad-Pendragon
Summary: Draco and Hermione take a tube journey


They were sitting on the tube. It had become a tradition between the two of them to sit on the London Underground, just watching people. They never mentioned it, and if anyone had asked what they did on their days off, they would have answered with a shrug.  
  
After a long moment of silence, Draco spoke. "I've been sitting here watching the crowds pass by, and I've come to a startling realization."  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"I've seen maybe 400 people walk past me, and not a single person in this entire place has breasts anywhere near as perfect as yours."  
  
She laughed out loud once before clapping her hands over her mouth and quivering a bit. She turned a bit pink, from muscle control or embarrassment or pleasure (or all three), and finally got enough air to say, "Excuse me? You've been sitting here checking out tits?"  
  
"Of course. And while no one could possibly match yours in all ways, there's usually quite a few passable ones, often in pairs."  
  
"While I'm looking." Hermione gave him one of those looks that suggested he had better be joking  
  
"No, of course not. That would be unspeakably rude. I do it when you're looking out of the window."  
  
"Oh. Okay. And nothing's hitting tonight?" For someone born in England, she spoke strangely, but long years away in America had altered her speech patterns slightly.  
  
"It's a little scary, actually. It's not just because it's Sunday and everyone's in their church clothes, I'm used to allowing for that. Watch, see what I mean." "I am not going to look at women's chests! I've got food, here."  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your ceremony." A few moments went by, while he carefully did not notice how her eyes followed the passersby. Finally she dropped her napkin and turned to him.  
  
"Great, now I can't keep myself from checking out every woman that I see, and try to figure out what her boobs look like!"  
  
"Ha! Welcome to my world." He smirked at her, letting his grey eyes lighten. "It is pretty sad, isn't it?"  
  
"My world? I don't know, it's not that..."  
  
"No, silly, I meant you're right, there are no good tits here."  
  
"Saw a maybe-okay set over by the far doors."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Over there, in the overalls and white lace t-shirt."  
  
"Hmm.smaller than mine."  
  
"Quaffles are smaller than yours. I don't look for better; I was just surprised at the average low quality of jugs in the room. You think it's because it's St. Patrick's Day, all the nice ones are out partying?"  
  
"Well, as long as we're objectifying people..."  
  
"It's okay, you can't objectify people; you're a girl. All the feminists say so."  
  
"Uh huh. But she's not that bad, unless it's just the bra."  
  
"You learn to allow for that. She's wearing a back-clasp, padded, definitely not a WonderBra. C cup, but those doesn't deserve more than a B." She looked at him for a few seconds before answering. "Made a study of this, have you? What brand?"  
  
"I'm not that obsessive about it."  
  
"Well, good."  
  
"Probably a Warner, though."  
  
"So does she meet approval?"  
  
"As long as I'm being a complete pig about it, no. Too droopy, without the bra she'd be swinging."  
  
"And that writes her off for you?"  
  
"As a person?-not at all. As a sexual partner?-not at all. I pay a lot more attention to a woman's laugh than her tits. Well, more, anyway. As a walking piece of art?-yeah, probably. Remember, I sleep next to the best, I have very high standards."  
  
"That's true."  
  
"Ha! You admit it! You're gorgeous!" He prodded her lightly.  
  
"Nope, I just recognize that you have a serious mental delusion that happens to work in my favour. I droop more than she does."  
  
"Do not. I'll bet she's got those tennis-ball-in-a-sock kind of tits."  
  
"Want me to go ask?"  
  
"All I'm doing is sharing an observation with you. Sharing my interests, you know."  
  
"I don't share that interest, thank you."  
  
"Oh yeah? What'd you think of the girl in the tank top, purple jeans shorts?"  
  
"Not bad, B cup but nicely shaped. Pointy nipples."  
  
"HA! Knew it. You scoped her out."  
  
"Did not. I saw her in the bathroom earlier."  
  
"Before I even brought the whole thing up! You lech, you."  
  
"Shut up, I just noticed. Women notice each other, you know."  
  
"No, but I'm learning. Tell me, woman are really all bisexual, aren't they?"  
  
"What? No!"  
  
"C'mon. All my life I was sure that women all touched each other in the bathroom. I always figured that was why Mom came out of there so fast."  
  
"Sorry to burst your pubescent bubble..."  
  
"No, no, it's all right. I just need a moment alone..."  
  
"G'head, I'm busy looking for hooters. How about those?"  
  
"Where... the one in the black dress? Okay I guess, they just look..."  
  
"What? Square? Too light? Not green yet?"  
  
"Mushy."  
  
"Mushy."  
  
"Yeah, mushy. Not firm. If she laid on her back they'd be in her armpits."  
  
"I don't believe you're that shallow!"  
  
"But I'm not, and you know it. I don't really judge people like that, but when I see people I make little mental notes about 'em. And you're the only person I'm comfortable enough around to share them with."  
  
"I guess I'm honoured."  
  
"You should be. We do spend a lot of time making fun of other people. It's drawn us closer, in a way."  
  
"Us against them?"  
  
"Me, you, and your perfect tits against them."  
  
"They are not perfect, they droop."  
  
"We've been there already. Excuse me, sir?"  
  
The man sitting a few feet away from them looked over, surprised. "Yes?"  
  
"I've been telling my wife that her breasts are ideal, but she thinks I'm too biased. Would you mind?"  
  
"Oh god..."  
  
"Sit up straight, Hermione, this has to be fair."  
  
"Um, well, they look great to me."  
  
"Told you! Thank you sir, I appreciate it."  
  
"I'm going to kill you as soon as I figure out what would hurt the most."  
  
"Slow suffocation between perfect breasts?"  
  
"Nah, mushy ones would work better for that. Hang on, I'm going to go find that woman..."  
  
"Okay, but I don't want to be resuscitated. No telling what I might wake up to."  
  
"Never mind. I'd rather let you live and someday maybe outgrow your shallow ways."  
  
"This from the woman who told me 'it was a good thing the Fed-Ex guy has such a great ass', 'cause he didn't have the brains of a biscuit'?"  
  
"I never said that!"  
  
"You did!"  
  
"But I never meant it."  
  
"Are we done here?"  
  
"Sounds like it. C'mon, let's go home and use some heroic measures."  
  
"You're going to make me wear the little brown shorts again, aren't you?"  
  
"Yep, but I'll wear that halter top you like." 


End file.
